literature

Dancing Men

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Literature Text

Sherlock strode into the living room, wearing a kilt. It revealed rather a lot of thigh—the effect being more Mary Quant than Rob Roy. 

John glanced up briefly from his laptop. “You’ve got mine on,” he said. 

“The hire company must have mixed up the labels,” said Sherlock, glaring at his hemline. 

John snickered. 

“Are you going to behave tonight?” he asked, as he put his laptop aside. “Scottish country dancing has no place for mavericks. You’ll have to work as part of a team.” 

Sherlock’s lips twitched, ever so slightly.



Mrs Hudson was a nifty little mover, despite the hip.

“Thanks for standing in,” she said. “Larry and Ken have been arrested.” 

Sherlock smiled. “Anything for you.” 

“Why are we actually here?” said John after Mrs Hudson had moved away. 

“To pass on smugglers’ secret messages through the medium of dance steps,” said Sherlock. 

“Of course,” said John.



John grinned to himself as Sherlock led the troupe of increasingly bewildered dancers through a subtly altered version of The Bees of Maggieknockater. When it was over, the onlookers applauded politely and an elderly woman discreetly made her exit.

“Right,” said Sherlock. “That’s the receiver directed into the waiting arms of the police.” 

“So what now?” asked John. 

“I think,” said Sherlock, straightening his kilt, “we’ve earned ourselves some uisge beatha.” 

Sherlock fanfiction: a 221B - a story 221 words long, final word beginning with "b". 221B form invented by ~KCScribbler (KCS).

My other 221Bs can be found here.
© 2013 - 2024 SCFrankles
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winterkate's avatar
How on earth do you take these insane ideas and make them seem perfectly normal in context? Seriously, I don't think anyone else could pull off Sherlock in a kilt this well.